Walking to work uphill in the snow both ways

Did you wear your pajamas inside out and backwards last night hoping it would snow?
If you're older than age 11, congratulations, you are an asshole. I hope you got stung in the eyes by blinding snow while walking to work this morning like I did.

You thought that by wearing your clothes like a complete idiot, you could successfully impact the weather to your advantage and earn yourself a nice day off from work by virtue of snow. What you failed to realize is that there are no effing snow days in real life! So you probably woke up and thought to yourself, "ZOMG SNOW!! I DID IT!!!!!" And then you realized, "Holy shit, I'm 25, snow means absolutely nothing except that I have to wear boots to work today. That did not work out the way I thought it would at all." In real life, this is what is known as a "Grownup Fail."

So now that you've changed out of your asinine backwards pajamas and trudged through the snow to work, I invite you to take a listen to Cam'ron's ode to the 9-5, "I Hate My Job." If you believe you actually altered mother nature's plans by dressing like an ADHD 6-year-old, then I hope you hate your job like Killa Cam does so that your trek through the blizzard was extra painful. Hopefully the song will stick in your head long enough for you to subconsciously hum it while you're slogging through slush on your way home later.

And on the off chance that you participated in this asshat pajama ritual and actually did end up with a snow day today, then I invite you to go make snow angels on Lexington avenue. Way to ruin it for the rest of us.

Just give me baseball already [or How to call A-Rod gay in 1864]

A-Fraud, A-Roid, maybe you wanna show her your A-Face.


I'm worn out on A-Rod, and steroids, and hypocritical hero-worshipping nonsense about athletes as role models.

Makes me long for the days when they used to play it like real men, the old fashioned way.

Conan O'Brien 1864 Baseball
by Youpinadi



Gammons: You seem peevish.
A-Face: I hope I have not caused you any vexation or unpleaseant cogitations.
Schiff Happens: You ass!
Interview ends, A-Face leaves the room.
Gammons: That gentleman likes to ply his seed in the other melon patch.

Sweet merciful crap, give me some apple hurling and stick mashing already.

Spring training is nearly here, and not a moment too soon.
I've been enjoying watching the NBA more than any season I can recall in a while, but I'm still watching the Knicks, who reminded me tonight that they still suck.

Besides, all of this A-Hole garbage gets me fired up. The season needs to start so I have somewhere to direct all of my hilarious anger.
Effinay-Rod!
Get out on the damn field and do what you get paid your millions to do.
Just win and the rest takes care of itself. In the end, that's all I care about. Any fan who says otherwise, or is willing to act shocked and disappointed that you did that shit is lying to themself.

You're an entertainer. You perform for my amusement. You're a $300 million circus seal, only you are exceptionally good at the exceptionally difficult albeit relatively inconsequential sporting challenge of hitting a round ball with a round piece of wood...and I prefer baseball to the circus. I really don't give a shit if you want to cheat and make an ass out of yourself - it's your money and your reputation - provided of course that you WIN. 3-letter word, starts with "W" - stop me if I say something that rings a bell.

Not to say I condone what you did, you frosted-tipped lying sack of cheater; I just won't shed a tear for my poor kid brother and all your many fans who will never worship your lipstick wearing ass again. We always knew you were kind of a prick. Now you're just a Webster's-worthy douche defined. Either way, you were never some kind of American hero. Writers who built you up that way and want to rip you now, and "Think of the children!" loudmouths who want to call you out for being a bad role model, see above re: lying to themselves. Again, not off the hook. You still cheated, and everyone still hates you.

BUT
(3-letter word, starts with "B")

All of that is irrelevant if you just do your effing job, specifically in months ending in -ober.

Now just give me baseball, so I can watch it all happen.

it only could have been better if it included the phrase "Wizard Douche"

sarah's not getting a date for the prom, look at her.

Well, that sucked [I hate everybody]

"Hello, you've reached the Giants' coaches box. Sorry we can't take your call right now, we're busy scheming our next third-and-fail. Please leave a message and we'll get back to you if we wake up."

Aaaaaand NFL season is over - that was quick! Thanks for the great effort, Giants. It was a great season and a classic battle yesterday that neither team could have been ashamed to lose. Maybe not so much, but thanks for showing up and playing like you wanted it. Thanks for showing up at all? Alright, does anybody want to tell me what the eff that was all about yesterday? Eli? Coach Coughlin? Sweet Jesus, has anybody seen Dave Tyree?

Thanks to the GMen deciding to roll over and die yesterday (because who wants a clear path to a second straight Super Bowl, really?), I now get to endure yet another week at work, this time with no football light at the end of the tunnel but an absolute Suckfest of a championship round which will ultimately send either the Iggs or the Buzzsaw that is the Arizona Cardinals to the Super Bowl. Allow that to sink in for a moment. ::Throws up all over keyboard::

This disaster says nothing of the battery of texts and emails I've received since the end of the gamy yesterday, most of which were sent from fans and residents of the city that pretty much invented losing. The worst part is that aside from remaining much better looking, I don't have shit to say back to these animals (although you all should probably prepare for facebook to notify you that I've sacrificed your friendship for a Whopper). From the outset the Giants didn't have it, they never looked like they wanted it, and really, they got their asses thoroughly whupped by a better team for a full 60 minutes. There was no phase of the game in which the Giants demonstrated any sort of superiority, confidence, effort, intelligence - shall I continue?

Lucking out on a safety and settling for 5 field goal attempts - 2 of which were missed by John "Skeletor" Carney - without even sniffing the end zone on 5 red zone possessions is generally not a game plan for success. Then again, neither is 3-for-13 on third down. And I haven't even mentioned yet the fact that Eli decided to revert back to his rookie year and play like a steaming hot pile of garbage. Someone needs to tell him that you don't always have to follow in your brother's footsteps. Maybe young Elisha saw big brother go down in the first round last week and decided that they could use all the extra time they could get to prepare for their big Double Stuf race against the Williams sisters. Seems possible, considering that the Giants were A) doubly stuffed in the fourth quarter as they twice failed to convert on fourth-and-short (neither play was even close, and if anyone wants to explain the QB sneak with inches to gain, please go right ahead), and B) outwitted and outplayed by Double Stuf personified.

However, I can't lay it all on Eli. Maybe Coach Spags should have been spending a little less time interviewing for head coaching jobs and a little more time designing a defensive scheme for THIRD-AND-FUCKING-TWENTY!!! Did we really just forget all about this???

There's so much more that I could say about one of the most miserable playoff performances I've ever witnessed by one of my favorite teams, but it's Monday, I'm depressed, I still hate Philly (maybe now more than ever) and it's fuh fuh freezing in New York City. How long until baseball starts? This is miserable.

Help me, Mark Teixeira. You're my only hope.